


Nightmares

by ThatWasntSoBad



Series: Phoenix Shepard/Kaidan Alenko [6]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt and comfort, a little angst i think?, a very summarised form of it is at the end, hurt and comfort is kinda like the og flangst right?, i don't think it's too graphic but if it is feel free to skip, there's a nightmare in italics at the very beginning, which isn't the end of the world, you'll just miss the intensity of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:54:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25710952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatWasntSoBad/pseuds/ThatWasntSoBad
Summary: Nightmares strike Phoenix when she least expects them, and they're much more common now that the reapers are here. Requested via tumblr with the prompts 'holding shaking hands' :)
Relationships: Kaidan Alenko/Female Shepard
Series: Phoenix Shepard/Kaidan Alenko [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1720840
Comments: 8
Kudos: 8





	Nightmares

_ "Dad!" Laughter filled the air as she sprinted to her father. The Mindoir sun beat down upon her skin, arms and legs bare in favour for a flowy, summer dress. The wind was fresh and cool despite the heat of the sun, forehead starting to bead in sweat once the humidity kicked in after the afternoon rain. Her book was left abandoned on the garden swing bench, a bottle of lemonade left on the floor, a box of snacks next to the book with her music player discarded on top. _

_ Her father was in armour, fresh from his final mission. He was a major. He was N6. He was the best sniper the Alliance had ever seen. And he was her father - the kindest man she had ever known. She knew as soon as he walked into their home he’d marvel at her mother’s pregnancy belly - she was going to have a little sister, no longer the only girl of three kids. She knew he’d help Rowan with his spelling, James with his science, her if she would ever ask for it. She’d only ask for help with potting plants - she’d figure out her homework eventually. Do enough research and she’d have what she needed for her two-month project. _

_ Her father lowered himself in a squat, arms outstretched, ready to pick her up. She was ready for it this time. She would cling for dear life, but she’d be ready. She caught the scent of his cologne in the air, something she never knew the notes of but recognised it as him. The scent of his shampoo (that he stole from her Mother without realising) - a tropical scent that made her want to sneeze. She saw his stubble, the odd silver within raven hair. _

_ She was so close she could see the indigo within his otherwise dark blue eyes, the specs of lilac - a nebula, her mother always called them. So rare but so beautiful. She saw his freckles, the scar on his upper lip curling as he grinned, the water that filled his eyes and reflected the sun. she saw herself in his. She was so close her fingers could feel the heat bouncing off his armour, the energy pulses of his kinetic barriers.  _

_ He opened his mouth to speak, and then he was gone. She was alone. Bright skies turned dark and thunder rumbled in the distance. The air was cold. She was taller than her nine-year-old self. She looked at her hands - in armour. Her current armour. The N7 stripe was clear when lightning flashed. Her hair whipped in front of her as the wind picked up and until the sudden rain weighed it down. _

_ Cries for help came from behind and she spun around. The fabric of her armour clung to her skin, lashes consistently blinking away the raindrops as she ran as fast as she could, following the steps in the direction of the estate she grew up in. She was coming from the direction of her secondary school, the cherry blossoms that were in her back garden were visible from her higher vantage point - the canopies clear as another lightning flash appeared, thunder following her Batarian bodies littered the floor, scattered with humans. Those she once knew. Those who were her friends. Cavendish was amongst them along with Ashley. Thane the only non-human friend she saw the lifeless body of, revealed only by lightning. _

_ Her heart pounded as fear began to take over her, lactic acid building within her legs, burning. She breathed heavily. She had to continue moving - gunshots were heard a few streets away. _

_ She found the energy within her legs to vault over the familiar collapsed wall leading to a shortcut alley. She followed it to her home and ran through the abandoned halls, dark and largely ignored by her in her rush. Beneath the five cherry blossom trees was a young girl, sixteen-years. A lightning flash revealed soaked, strawberry blonde hair and deep blue eyes with flecks of purple. A Batarian pistol was in her hands, right index on the trigger the left supporting her right hand as it shook. She was terrified. Afraid. A fresh cut to her left cheek. Her school uniform was in tatters, arm bleeding, blood covering her shirt. _

_ Behind her was the body of a dark-haired man in Alliance armour, gunshot wounds to his chest plate. Next to him was a woman - strawberry blonde, detonator in her hand, a butterfly tattooed on her right forearm. Lifeless, brown eyes staring at her. _

_ Her parents _

_ “I could have saved them if I was quicker.” She heard her voice from the teen, broken and cracking. “I could have -” _

_ “You saved everyone you could.” _

_ “But it wasn’t enough, was it!? I didn’t save my family! My parents are dead! My grandparents are heartbroken! My brothers and sisters are quiet. They don’t talk to me. Not really. And my friends? Do I even have those anymore” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “That’s how they grieve.” Phoenix spoke as quietly as she dared over the storm. “They just need to be alone for a while.” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “That’s what you tell yourself whilst you push them away. It’s what you tell yourself so you don’t feel so bad. But I know the truth. They hate you. They blame you. It’s your fault mum and dad are dead. It’s your fault the Collectors got to the Human colonists. It’s your fault so many died at Elysium. It’s your fault James has to see a Therapist every week. It’s your fault he’s depressed. It’s your fault the Collectors attacked the SR-1. It’s your fault the Collectors focused on Humans. It’s your fault the Batarians are going to go extinct if the Reapers don’t do it. It’s your fault Humanity is hated. They’re just too nice to say it and you know that.” The pistol was aimed at her pointedly. “Despite it all, you continue going because you’re scared. You’re afraid because if you stop, this haunts you. If you stop you’re alone. If you stop the ghosts of your past never leave!” _

_ A bone-chilling screech filled the hair and her blood went cold.  _

_ “If you stop for just one second everyone you hold close you will die. You… You barely saved him after Mars. James would have pulled the trigger on him if things didn’t work out during the Cerberus Coup.” _

_ “You’re lying.” _

_ “You’re lying to yourself! You think you know your crew - you’re family and friends - but you don’t! You say we’ll win - we’ll beat the Reapers - but you know we won’t!” _

_ “We don’t know that.” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “You do because I’m here all the time! Your crippling doubt. Your depression. Your anxiety. I’m here weighing you down. I want to be you! I want to be brave but I panic. I freeze. I…” The pistol began to lower for a moment. But it was quickly raised again and in her place stood the First Human Spectre, 2183. In place of the pistol was the spectre Assault Rifle, - the HMWA. On her back the HMWSP and the HMWSG. It was for a moment, looking into the eyes of someone confident and proud in her achievements regardless of how she felt she didn’t do enough. She felt brave. She felt inspired. She felt stronger than she’d felt in a long time. She felt ready to take on whatever was thrown at her. _

_ And then another screech happened, much closer than before. She felt the biotic energy tingle across her skin, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling. The temperature dropped further and she could see her breath in the darkness. The human spectre was on the floor and a quick scan showed the broken bones. The helmet rolled towards her feet and she could see herself. Dead.  _

_ And Phoenix was afraid again. _

_ She spun around pistol in her hand. It felt strange to hold. Cold and heavy. It was the pistol she picked up from the Batarian. The pistol that she thought of whenever she held one. It would be useless against the Banshee that was in front of her, a hundred metres perhaps.  _

_ “You hesitate, unable to get a good shot, and they’re dead.” _

_ The Banshee was gone and then blood was on her hands, on the pistol. And on the floor, twenty metres away was another Alliance soldier. No. Not any marine. Not any soldier. The armour was too unique, too -  _

_ “Kaidan’s blood is on your hands.” Phoenix dropped the pistol as if it was burning her skin. His blood was on her hands. And she could do nothing but stare at them, blankly, processing. “You could have saved him if you were fast enough.” _

_ The screech was close again. _

_ “I don’t know who or what you are since Cerberus rebuilt you. I just want to if the woman I followed through hell and back - the woman that I loved - are you still in there? Somewhere?” _

_ “Shepard, you are hard to step away from.” _

_ “I’ve enjoyed serving under you.” _

_ “If I didn’t believe in what you were doing, I wouldn’t be here.” _

_ “If the Reapers are gonna come in, we might as well have a good seat.” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Yeah, I read those books as a kid where a hero comes in and fights for the woman he loves Or, you know, for justice.” _

_ “Everything will be okay, Shepard. You’ll figure it out.” _

_ Whispers echoed within her ears, thunder rumbling above her head as lightning flashed. Pain ripped through her chest. She didn’t have to look down to see the Banshee’s claws. She felt the blood run down her skin beneath her armour. Just a fast, forward motion and she’d be -  _

A scream as she bolted upright, chest heaving. Sweat beaded on her forehead, heart pounding against her ribs. She expected to see the Banshee’s claws, to feel the rain on her skin, hear thunder and witnessed lightning. She touched her chest - nothing. She looked at her hands - nothing.

Nothing at all.

Dimmed-down lights sensed her sudden movement and switched on a low, warm glow.

Her head hurt. Eyes ached. She sighed and buried her hand into her hands. Her face was oily, the feeling heavy on her skin, and her baby hears clung to her forehead.

She needed to shower if she was to get back to sleep again. Standing was hard. Her legs shook - adrenaline making them feel weak. Her legs may as well have been stuck together as she practically threw herself out of bed, recycled air hitting her like ice. Her vest top was stuck to her skin and she struggled to peel it off. Five minutes under the shower. That was all she needed.

She was on the Normandy. She was safe. She was okay. EDI and Joker would alert her if anything were to happen. Everything would be okay. 

Just needed to do something. Maybe a cold drink after would help. Or maybe checking in with Chakwas. Or Rowan if he wasn’t working. Or sleeping. It didn’t matter that they were… 

“Joker,” she stood next to the comm at her door, only connected to different areas of the ship “how far away are we from the Citadel?”   
  
“Eight hours, Commander.” A moment of silence. “You sound like you just had the fright of your life.”

“I’m fine, Joker. No need to worry.”

“Right. Because last time you said that you ended up having a meltdown and punched your locker so hard you bruised your knuckles.” She sighed. “I’m just saying last time you said you were alright, you had a meltdown ten minutes later.”   
  
“I know and I appreciate the concern. I  _ will  _ be fine, alright? Just need to clear my mind a little. Nothing to worry about.”   
  
“Alright, Commander.” Phoenix knew Joker didn’t believe you - you don’t go through a suicide mission together and not know when the other’s struggling - but he didn’t force the subject. “Starboard observation, right?”

“Yeah. Let me know when we’re a couple hours out.”   
  
“Aye, Aye, Ma’am.”

_____

The Starboard observation deck had once again become her quiet space. She’d turned the music to something soft, turned it down so it was a little quieter. Despite the furnishings installed, she sat on the floor. She had long finished her rosé spritzer (rosé wine and lemonade) and the empty wine glass was placed beside her on her right. Her hoodie sleeves were halfway down her hands for comfort, hair damp from the warm shower. Her legs were crossed, a sketchpad on her lap with a pencil in her right hand. She was drawing aimlessly, eyes heavy from exhaustion yet mind never shutting up. 

It had been years since she had relapsed to such an extent - The Blitz. She had moments after - it was hard not to - but not enough to make her  _ afraid _ . Afraid of herself? Afraid _ for  _ her? Afraid for everyone  _ close  _ to her? 

For the first time that hour, Phoenix paid attention to what she attempted to draw. Proportions were off in some places, the nose was fine, the armour was fine, the hair was fine but the eyes? Wrong. Or was it the mess of twenty attempts that way? Was the fringe a little too forward? Hairline too high? Brows too angled? Nose wonky from the slant she often drew in? Cheekbone too far out and too pointed? The more she stared, the more  _ wrong  _ she found. No matter how minuscule it truly was, it was too big for her. Too distracting. Too…

Phoenix let the pencil fall from her hand and she moved the pad away from her so quickly it might well have been thrown across the room in a fit of frustration. She was sleep-deprived. She was struggling. She knew she’d look at the drawing in a few weeks and think it looked fine. Or not. She hadn’t been happy with anything she’d done as of late. 

Ears pricked at the sound of footsteps and she turned her upper body a little to stare at the door. When it opened, she could only offer the weakest of smiles to the Major. He looked tired, himself. He mentioned he was restless at the café a few weeks ago. If the dark circles under his eyes were anything to go by, they were both struggling to sleep. He held two cups of hot drinks and she rose a brow. “Joker told you, huh?”   
  
“EDI, actually. Joker’s still terrible at lying but he wasn’t budging.” He lowered a cup to her and she took it gratefully. Their fingers brushed and the warmth from the ceramic was the most comfort she’d had all night. “Got it?”   
  
“Yeah. Thank you.” She sat it down in front of her, leaving it to cool down a little. “Not sleeping either?”   
  
“Had some reports to finish organising -” he sat beside her on the floor “found another of my squads in south-west England, on their way to London to help Anderson.”   
  
“That’s good. Proves you’re a good teacher.” She pulled her sleeves down further and wrapped her arms around herself. “You always said you didn’t think you’d be any good.”   
  
Phoenix looked at him as he laughed a little in mild embarrassment. “Yeah. Didn’t have the best teaching of biotics but I did have you as a good example.”   


She cracked a wider smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I didn’t handle Horizon well, granted, and I didn’t know who you were at face value, but it didn’t change how I remembered you.”   
  
“I’m glad. I was a little worried it had. And I’m… flattered you considered me a good example” She looked back at the window. “I don’t feel like one right now.”   
  
“You’re doing what you can with what we’ve got.”   
“It’s not that, it’s just…” She sighed and picked up the cup. “I don’t know.” She felt his eyes on her as she took a sip of the hot chocolate, sweetened to perfection. He always made the best.

“Having nightmares again?”   
  
“More than normal. Worse than normal. I close my eyes and they’re… they don’t leave.”

Kaidan took a sip of his drink, also hot chocolate from the lack of the distinct scent of coffee. “Do you want to talk about it?”   
  
“How much are you willing to hear?”   
  
“As much as you’re willing to tell.”

Phoenix looked at Kaidan. His gaze was warm. It always was. And she knew she didn’t have to talk about it - she didn’t tell him every nightmare. Sometimes just two words were enough, other times just her haunted expression was enough. Sometimes the dreams hit worse than other times she had them. They were worse when she crashed, so exhausted that her body demanded rest against her will. 

“Well, it started out fine. There was my dad, I was about nine. Just a happy memory I remember dreaming about when I was younger and my dad was still a Marine. Then it changes - I’m me” she gestured at herself to emphasise it as her current self “but I’m on Mindoir. There’s thunder and lightning, rain, screaming, gunshots. You know the drill. Typical raid. Only there’s me… sixteen-year-old me. Pointing a gun at me. My parents are dead behind her. Calls herself my crippling doubt and anxiety and… all that stuff. Eventually, she’s the… dead me. Spaced. Broken bones. Eventually..” she sighed and set the cup down. Phoenix fiddled with her fingers and looked away from Kaidan once again. “Eventually I turn around, there’s a banshee, I have that damn Batarian pistol in my hand. You’re dead from said Banshee, your blood is literally on my hands. Banshee disappears, get pain in my chest and I wake up. Sea of sweat.”

Phoenix felt her face begin to tense as the words came back to her. “I can never forget how she looked at me and said that everything that happened was my fault. Everything. Mindoir, Elysium, the Batarians, the Collectors, the Reapers the… the hatred towards humanity. All of it because of me. And it… it hurts to hear yourself say it to you with such anger. Such hatred.”

She was gently encouraged into Kaidan’s hold and Phoenix allowed herself to find solace within it. It was not too dissimilar to the first time a relatively bad nightmare had caught her off guard on the SR-1. It was after Sovereign had been defeated, maybe three weeks later. There was hot chocolate, a heartfelt conversation - although the nightmare itself wasn’t discussed other than the core of its message - and she found comfort in being with Kaidan. There was something about hearing his heart that soothed her, unlike hearing her own, and the way he simply held her. She felt safe. Oddly enough. Like she was home. Like everything they were going through was simply a bad dream that would go away eventually.   
  
“None of it was ever your fault.” Kaidan took her right hand, which was resting against his chest, and held it gently in place. She didn’t realise how much it was shaking until his hand had stopped it. The gentleness in which his thumb ran across her knuckles.   
  
She released a breath and brought her legs closer, practically curling into herself “Yeah. What will be will be.” 

Phoenix felt his head tilt against hers, the gentle kiss against her crown. “Do you want to finish our drinks in your cabin?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” She felt the quiet rumble of his chest as he laughed. “I’d like that.”


End file.
